As the Storm Comes
by IzzBot
Summary: House watches the day pass from atop a picnic table. Ambiguity with anything concerning Wilson, always.


**Disclaimer: House MD belongs to David Shore.**

**-**

A deserted park.

Icy winds attacked piles of leaves mercilessly, creating tornados of brown foliage, twirling high into the sky. House watched the dance, leaves moving as one, a great wave.

He lay on a picnic table – hard wood resting beneath his back, legs swinging off the sides. He watched the sky. Birds raced and darted, escaping the brutal winds with a quick flick of their wings. Clouds formed dangerously – crashing together, joining into one great swirling mass.

His mind was calmed by this tumultuous storm. He gained strength from the overpowering forces.

A runner's park was a great place to hide for a cripple. Genius, really. He did not factor in the cold, though, and goosebumps rose across his flesh, smooth skin becoming harsh and bumpy. His thin t-shirt flapped in the breeze.

Either insanely intuitive or psychic, he could sense Cuddy's approach before he could see her. Leaves crunched obnoxiously under her high heeled shoes. In her famous admonishing tone, she said, "House…"

He could sense a lecture coming on. So he lay uncharacteristically quiet, legs swinging, eyes turned upwards toward the heavens. His mind wanted to spew out a mess of offensive jokes and sarcastic quips, but his mouth seemed sewn shut for once.

Her voice was soft, bargaining. "You need to be in the hospital…"

Easily refutable – he didn't _need _to be anywhere. Or do anything. Especially at her behest.

And so she continued.

"It's cold. You cannot possibly choose to sit out in the freezing cold rather than go back to the hospital… be reasonable."

He was always reasonable. He had his reasons, even if others couldn't comprehend them.

In his peripheral vision he could see her raising an eyebrow at him, shaking her head. Defensive. Angry. Frustrated. Her nails clinked against the table. _Tap. Tap. Tap tap._

Was it her plan to annoy him into coming back? It wasn't going to work – his mind was made up. He was impenetrable.

Finally, the harsh lines that had been gracing her face smoothed out into a look of defeat. "Fine… get hypothermia. Your decision."

And with a huff she was gone. Back into her palace… her jail cell… her domain. Back to paperwork and patients and people (who generally suck anyway.) _Be gone, fair lady, back to hell. In this heaven I shall stay and laugh at you and your misery._

And quiet pleasantly fell around him like a comforting old blanket, broken only by the swoosh of the wind and the chattering of the animals. He closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp smell… it smelled like snow.

"House?"

A softly accented voice broke into his meditations. He squinted one eye open to see Chase standing over him. His lab coat flew wildly behind him, the winds deciding to take it away with them. He looked confused, as well as amused, a winning combination concerning House. "What are you doing out here?"

One eye still closed, House swiftly grabbed his handy dandy cane and whacked Chase with it. The man gave no response, unfortunately. Completely ignoring the random act of aggression, he went on, "We need you inside. Cuddy… we need you to solve a case. Um, here, let me get it…"

Chase pulled out an unassuming, innocent looking manila folder. The wind did not like this, though, and grabbed and teared at the papers until they were shot high into the sky, joining in with the dancing leaves. Chase helplessly gazed after the files, not the sort to get into an argument with the spiteful breeze. "Ah… case solved I guess."

House tried to show no emotion, but couldn't help the sarcastic little grin that played on his features. Chase sighed and returned dejectedly to the hospital.

The party going on overhead was now gaining in numbers. Along with Chase's files, the wind had seduced a balloon, a garbage bag, and a red ribbon to play along as well. They did a tango around the tall trees, naked in the winter light, and called down to House to come join them.

Unable to sprout wings and join in the fun, House lay on his picnic table and watched on.

"House!" An arrogantly demanding voice called from a few paces away.

Foreman's face appeared in House's view. "There are sick people… dying people… and you are wasting time out here shooting the breeze."

He scoffed. "I can't believe this!"

And House said nothing, not even letting his expressive eyes tell their story. Let them wonder, let them whisper, let them form their own conclusions.

With a few more words Foreman tried to egg House on to respond. With a few more words Foreman had dug himself into a hole. House let out a tiny victory half-smile. Foreman didn't see.

And so the madman left. And House mentally applauded as a stick whapped his fellow in the head.

And so he watched. He watched the branches of the trees twist violently, rejecting the omnipotence of the wind. Not fully submitting to the gusts that changed their original state. They futilely fought back against the forces that controlled them.

A lone bunny darted underneath his picnic table. Scared, wide eyes stared up at him, pleading for shelter. _Sorry, little one. I am as lost as you… vulnerable to the changing winds. Let us face the storm together._

Suddenly the animal skittered away, and Cameron appeared in its wake. "House."

He wanted to laugh as her hair flew wildly over her head, brown strands twisting together in knots and Medusa came out of the form of his fellow. Snakes hissed at him.

But, oh sweet Cameron, did not know that she had morphed into a monster. And so she continued. "I knew I'd find you here. I need help with a patient. Can you just come back inside?"

Bright eyes pleaded with him. He remembered the bunny fondly.

But he gave no answer.

Before she might have sat out with him awhile, trying to see what he saw, trying to get into his mind. But she was busy now. And aggravated. And cynical from years with her misanthropic boss.

So she left.

And the snakes left with her, grinning insidiously back at him as they went.

He was faintly amused at how he destroyed what innocence his young fellows once had. And how he managed to crush all their hope. But in its place came strength. The winds knew strength, and they caressed his cheek with understanding.

And so he waited.

He waited for the time to pass. For the winds to tire and the songs of the storm to cease. He waited and waited and waited… And the sun fell low and the sky became tinted orange.

And the winds became harsher… and colder… and became a terrible foe.

The cold night seeped into his bones, under his skin. The darkness dulled his vision and he could no longer watch the courtship of the leaves. His picnic table groaned, joints creaking and complaining from under him.

He closed his eyes and let the night claim him. The day offered mercy, but all the night held was punishment.

And then… warmth. Starting from his shoulder then spreading to his toes. He opened his eyes to find slender fingers resting on his arm. Brown eyes studying him hesitantly.

Stars twinkled overhead, a black ocean peppered with lights. Serenity seemed to sweep over the whole world. The wind abated, grinning and teasing playfully with a few short puffs. And then the leaves fell, creating a great tinkling sound as they all swooped down at once. The moon rose, ready for its vigil. Powerful and gentle. A benevolent presence to keep the nightmares at bay.

With a smile Wilson looked up and sighed. Daily toil melting off of him, soul refreshed. Without a glance at House, he set down his briefcase and settled in on his picnic bench. His skin, still warm from the indoors, recoiled from the cold of the wood. But he stayed.

And so they watched.

And the stars sung to them and the night creatures stared with big eyes. Ghosts leapt out of shadows of trees, but failed in their attempt to frighten. Peace remained unbroken.

Until, finally, it was time. Their eyes grew weary and their backs were sore. Bodies ached for sleep, and they reluctantly gave in.

They stood.

"Time to go, House." Wilson said, walking off into the night, toward civilization.

And so House followed.

An owl hooted goodnight.

-

**A/N: Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated!**


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